The World Is Ugly
by ShellaStarshine
Summary: In the midst of the world's end, a lone woman steps from the gates of hell into the arms of a reluctant and torn hero. M for language and sexual scenes. Rick/OC pairing. Please R&R. Story in progress.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

**Well hello there again everyone. Sooooo here's the start of the story I promised. :3 I hope you guys like it. I **_**will**_** be taking down the fabulous sex scene until it comes up in the story, so *poof*. And I am simply disappointed by how many people cared to leave a review for me. Wahhhhh. Please leave me some, they are life. O.o To the two of you that left me one, thank you guys! It means a lot. :D**

**By the way, the italicized words are Leda's thoughts to herself. I thought I would try to make the fic more personal to her while still staying in 3****rd**** person rather than writing in 1****st**** because I really really really don't like 1****st**** person. For some reason.**

The day was certainly not playing out as smoothly as she'd planned. The bullet lodged in her bloody shoulder and the pack of Steves chasing hungrily after her was a sure sign of that. Yet all she could do was run. Just run through the woods and hope she came across the unlikely luck of safe refuge. Every possibility of how she could get out of this awful situation was going through her head; climbing a tree was out of the question, what with the almost immobile state her shoulder was in. Even if she could somehow manage to elevate her self about the mob, it was a bad idea anyway because she'd never be able to get back down. She was pretty certain this part of the woods was completely vacant, so that eliminated any random cabin or shed she could hide in. But again that was a bad idea; they'd blocked her in and eventually break the door down like the big bad wolf and she'd be in same situation as she had been in before. Her grip on the machete in her hand tightened in an effort to cope with the agony the bullet had left.

_Just accept it. _

There was no way out. Her shoulder felt like it was about to explode and the strap of the pack on her back wasn't helping. She physically couldn't keep running like this, not with all the blood she had lost already. Sheathing her machete in its makeshift cover hanging off her waist, slender fingers went to wrap around the .357 tucked away into the waistband of her filthy black shorts, deriving a small comfort in the cool metal against her palm. As stray branches and leaves whipped past her face, she readied herself for inevitable. Her strength was quickly receding, and her vision was becoming hazy. She would have to act fast, and just as she was shakily pulling the handgun out, the forest opened up into a field full of yellowed waist-high grass. She heard shouts and gunshots, but could barely register them. Having prepared herself for her own demise, her senses refused to take notice of anything over the sound of her own ragged breathing. Blurred figures streamed into her cloud of vision, and they certainly weren't Steves. They carried rifles in their hands and her first thoughts were of panic.

_Not _more _crazy fucks_.

One grabbed her, holding her in place he threw the pack and rifle from her to the ground. Her gun was forcefully removed from her hand and the empty fist flew out wildly only to collide with something solid, rewarding her with a struggled grunt. Running on instinct, she fought for all she had until her limbs grew heavy and the ground rushed up to meet her impaired vision. As she started to fade from consciousness, she sighed weakly, and welcomed the cold black fog.


	2. Fight and Flight

The incessant and blissful twitter of birds and the soft trickle of a stream was enough to rouse Leda from her peaceful slumber. Bright rays of southern sunshine glowed through the fabric of her shelter, and a slightly irritated hand shielded unaccustomed eyes from the light.

_Just five more minutes._

Just that thought made her feel silly and she chuckled softly to herself. Stretching with a sigh and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she unwrapped the pair of headphones that had become tangled around her during the night and feeling for the ipod that was very conveniently under her. Holding her finger firmly on the power button to see how much battery power it had left, she received no response.

_Fuck._

She hadn't realized how exhausted she'd been when she turned in the night before. Usually, she always remembered to groggily switch it off as she felt herself nearing the warm confines of sleep. Apparently that wasn't the case last night. She felt like that little piece of plastic was part of what had kept her sane in the last couple months of chaos that had taken the world by the balls. And that now had it by the throat.

Gingerly, she wrapped the earplug cord around the dead device, which she then tucked into one of the many safely zippered pockets of her vest. It was then that she became absentmindedly aware a dull scratching and moaning coming from under her. Finding the zipper pull that would truly expose her to the morning, she slid it along the track and the vivid green canopy of a summer forest revealed itself, along with the blue sky overhead. Her slender fingers wrapped around a nearby branch so that she could better direct her vision down towards the forest floor without falling out of the hammock. Sure enough, an eager shell of a body was attempting to make it known that he was more than ready for breakfast.

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine," she muttered, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly. She knew that it was a sick habit, the morbid amusement she continued to carry around with her. But now that the world had gone to shit, and there wasn't much reason to laugh anymore, she had to find some excuse. At first when she was adjusting to the newly desecrated wasteland called earth, her humor became unintentionally dormant and the only focus she could sustain was survival. But she changed quickly, as she always had to a new environment. It had been strange not to laugh all the time as she usually did. Little by little though, she gained back what little humanity she had managed to hold onto and sooner, rather than later, little snickers started to appear back into her everyday life, no matter how sick the subject matter seemed to be. Hell, she'd even taken to calling the flesh-eaters Steve, on account of how the first one she'd ever seen had the name printed on his coveralls. She figured she'd just gone insane, taking amusement in even that tiny thought. Nah, probably just a side effect of having to experience the lovely odor of rotten flesh on a more regular basis that she cared for.

She pulled her self back into the more than safely secured hammock, which was obviously designed for cliff climbers, but served its purpose equally well in the branches of a tall oak tree. She reached for her pack, which was nestled between a split in the trunk, and pulled out a can of beef stew, along with the necessary spoon and a can opener. She ate of breakfast in silence and was grateful that the wind current was not bringing the corpse's stench to threaten her own breakfast. When she was finished, she returned the utensils back to her bag, and with the empty can in her hand, and leaned over the hammock once again. Taking aim, the projectile was released and gravity did its work as it plummeted towards the earth below. Her reward was a resounding thunk as the metal collided with its target, and its expression as it gazed hungrily upward was as dopey as ever. In fact this one looked particularly dimmed witted and most likely had been cursed with the same face in life as it was in death. Her smirk was inevitable as she once again hoisted herself upright and pulled on her boots, making quick work of the laces with her dexterous fingers. She swiftly stepped out of the hammock and onto a thick branch. Untangling the ropes and hooks preserving her shelter, she folded it up and stuck it in her bag. Next she grabbed her machete, which was wedged into another nearby branch, and after a firm tug on the handle tucked it away into a side strap on her belt. With her backpack on her shoulders and her rifle hanging by its strap adjacent to it, she made her steady decent downward through the menagerie of leaves and branches.

As she neared the bottom, ol' Steve's moans became more excited and his hands went high over his head, reaching for the warm, tasty flesh. After she had gotten to a couple of yards above it and there was a clear view without any obstructions, she pulled a hunting knife from her belt. Positioning herself and the blade, she aimed and threw. It sank to the ground with a soft thump, followed by her own. Retrieving her weapon from the rotten skull and wiping it off on the poor bastards clothes, she quickly scanned the area for any more threats. Finding none, she bent to the crystal clear flow of water beside her and drank deeply. She threw her pack off her shoulder and removed two empty water bottles and filled them up. Sighing deeply, before standing back up again, she checked to make sure that the .357 was still tucked in her pocket. It was, besides being fully loaded as well.

Her gaze wandered around the forest, thick with intense greenery and the smell of summer. If not for the smelly cadaver beside her, it would have been a beautiful morning. Turning around, made her way threw the forest, gently patting the protective tree as she passed it.

It had been her sanctuary for about a week, and she already knew that it was time to move on. Her eager visitor had been the first, and even with such a small and easily dealt with menace, the chance that more could come was not something she looked upon lightly. More than three could be a huge problem, and she did not like using guns. Waking up to a huge mob swarming underneath her was not that appealing to her. It was a death warrant in fact. Of course that was one of the chances she took by choosing tree's as her sleeping ground oppose to a boarded up house. The only difference was there was no chance of her being eaten alive by surprise in her sleep. Those things couldn't climb trees, so it seemed like the only true safe place. To be honest, she could be surrounded just as easily if she had opted for a ground structure anyway.

Her feet finally brought her to a housing development. Lurking just within the trees and out of sight, her mind went through the possibilities of infiltrating it. Supplies, which where always a necessity, could be located just within one of the abandoned houses. She was running out of food; there was only a can of beans left in her pack. Even though she didn't really have a choice, she still was hesitant to venture into such a trap. Even though she doubted the chance of there still being survivors within the houses, is was still possible. And she really was in the mood to tangle with people at the moment. Almost every single person whose heart was still beating she'd come across had gone completely homicidal. There wasn't a single shred of decency or humanity left, not even in the living.

Despite this, she needed food and was almost certain she could slip in and out without drawing attention, assuming of course she chose the right house.

Determined to be precise, she started planning her entry and exit, circling the perimeter of the small neighborhood at least five times. Her machete silently sliced through the stray Steve that happened to cross her path. There were at least twenty five within the neighborhood itself, and she counted eight that she'd taken down alone. She finally chose a medium two-story house positioned just perfectly on the outskirts. It had a small shed right by the forest's edge, and a tree right beside it, which left her only about three yards of empty space to clear before she reached the back door. Taking a deep breath, she executed her plan, creeping through the once perfectly manicured lawn, machete firmly held in her hand. Her back flattened against the white stone of the house, and she glanced in the window beside the door. Not detecting any signs of movement, her hand rested on the handle of the door, and threw it open. Nothing. She stepped inside cautiously, her senses extra tuned for any sign of life, or UN-life. She pushed the door shut behind her and it clicked close softly. Slowly and adeptly, she swept the bottom level, and as she scaled the carpeted staircase, an almost inaudible thump sounded through the hallway and her head swung in its direction. Silently thanking the house for the soft floor, she followed the noise into a small bedroom that overlooked the messy streets below. The bedroom was empty, and so was the closet. However the bathroom that was connected to the room was still left unchecked and that was where she found the gruesome source of the noise. The corpse of a woman, mos likely a housewife by the way she was dressed, hissed at her from where she had apparently been tied up to the pipes underneath the sink. Desperately trying to free herself from her restraints so she could experience her first meal of flesh and blood, Leda looked down upon it in disgust. Before it could detach itself from it's rotting hands and finally come after her, the swish of a cold blade stilled it's movements.

Quickly, the rest of the house was searched and finally clear. There were a few medical supplies in the bathroom cabinets, some gauze and rubbing alcohol along with a new bar of soap, toothbrush, and a half used tube of toothpaste.

_Oh my god, I just struck it rich._

She was stuffing the items in her pack when she noticed a bag of makeup sitting on the counter. Hesitating, she smirked a little bit.

_Why not?_

It would hardly take up any space in her backpack and it pleasantly reminded her of the little things she had loved a couple of months before. She reached out, rummaging through the bag, and pulled out some tubes of eyeliner, mascara, and a compact with powder and a handy little mirror in it. She dropped them into a small pocket on the side of the bag. There was a tiny brush sitting on the side of the counter, which she also took.

She finally noticed her reflection in the mirror, and against her better judgement, she just stood there with eyes locked on herself. The natural black hair that she had been trying to grow out before the apocalypse had since then done so, and there where at least five thick inches of it framing her face. The ends of her hair, previously dyed a vivid auburn red, had faded a little but was still pretty red. Her loose mess of curls fell around her face and over her shoulders, just above her breasts. Her bangs were held back with the bandana she had tied around her head.

But what she noticed most was her eyes. They were still the bright, vivid color of jade that they had always been. And what surprised her was that they hadn't changed; not the color of course, the look behind them. She was expecting them to look tired and pained. But they looked the same as she had always looked. Despite the ragged clothes that hung off her body, the rifle on her back and machete on her hip, she could have sworn everything was still the same.

Suddenly the rumble of an engine invaded her reverie. Almost immediately she went into stealth mode, drawing her machete.

_FUCK._

She ran into the bedroom with the corpse and sank to the wall beside the window. Her head poked up from the corner just enough to see a dark truck rolling down the street. It stopped at the house directly across from the one she was in and three men got out, shouting loudly to each other, only to each aim at the nearest oncoming Steve and fire. The crackle of the gun made Leda cringe and she swore again.

_Fucking idiots! Great. There goes the start of a good day._

She didn't know how they hadn't been devoured or at least bitten already. They obviously didn't get the whole stealth thing and that overeager mobs would gather if they didn't follow that one rule. Overtime she had taught herself how to tell if someone was hostile. Most of the time it wasn't hard, at least not with the morons below her. It was something she saw in their eyes, some of the insanity that had developed through the life that had been thrust upon them. She had come across many survivors in the month she had been on the road, and not once did her senses fail her.

One of the men had a shotgun and the other two had handguns, and not even one melee weapon or even a bow. Not one. And to her immense horror, one of them pointed at the house she currently occupied.

_Oh bloody hell._

She pushed herself off the wall and all but threw herself down the hallway and stairs. Her back pressed against a wall in the kitchen, two rooms from the front door. Her fingers turned white as she tightly gripped her machete and listening for the turning of a door handle. When it came, the door creaked open, followed by the heavy sound of two pairs boots.

_Shit, where's the other one?_

Her eyes closed and just listened. When the time was right, she spun around swinging the cold sharp blade across the neck of the intruder. Blood spilled from his throat, and she caught the gun just in time before it clattered to the floor. He was heavy, and it took a huge amount of effort to softly set his lifeless body on the cold tile.

Her eyes peaked around the corner, searching for the second and possibly third entrant. She found him slowly ascending the stairs and slunk around the corner. He must have seen her though because he froze, and started t back down the steps. Unaware of this, her head peaked around the corner. Oh, he saw her this time and took a shot at her, leaving a hole in the wall where her head had been only seconds before. He chased after her, chose a wrong corner, and her blade sank into his back.

She withdrew it, and the bastard sank his knees, before falling with a thud on the floor. She could already hear the moaning developing outside from all the gunshots. Like angry neighbors complaining about noise from a party that had gotten too loud, the hammering coming from the front door was violent and oppressive and it wouldn't be long before the damn thing came down completely. It sounded like they hadn't fed in a while, which made the danger all the more severe.

Suddenly there were gunshots coming from the back door and in ran the third member of the party. She fled around the wall and he fired after her. There was a sudden pain in her shoulder and she cried out in agony. But she didn't stop and fled up the stairs, throwing a table in the hallway down the stairs, hoping to buy a few seconds.

_I wonder if this prick will fall for the oldest trick in the book._

She ran into the bedroom at the end of the hall, flung the window open and smeared some blood on the edge of the window. She hissed at the excruciating pain as she touched her wound. Quickly grabbing a random piece of clothing lying on the floor, she pressed it to her wound, gasping at the torture before disappearing into the dark closet on the opposite side of the room.

A mere moment after she vacated the open room, her pursuer entered, walking straight to the window with his back turned, as predicted.

_Rookie._

She stepped out of the darkness and into the light of the room still firmly clutching her wound and with the handgun aimed at the back of his head.

"Drop it," she commanded.

Completely ignoring the threat, he whirled around attempting to foolishly put her down before she could do the same to him. But she did not hesitate and her aim was true. Brains and blood splattered the window as he lifeless body fell to the once pristine white carpet. She sighed.

_They never listen. Even when I do give them chances._

She didn't know why she even bothered. The sound of the dead at her doorstep reminded her of the serious danger she was in and she tucked the gun back in her waistband. There was no way in hell she was getting out the house through a door so she went through the bedrooms checking the windows for a clear jump down to the ground.

A moan that seemed a little to close for comfort invaded her senses and she whirled around only to see the man whose throat she'd previously cut through stumbling towards her. His eyes had turned and sickly inhuman shade as well as his skin. He looked like a Steve, but how was that even remotely possible?

_How the hell?_

He hadn't been bitten, unless he was already infected before she killed him. But that didn't make sense either, as he was completely fever free went she'd touched his skin. Caught off guard by confusion and shock, his newly hungry eyes and snapping jaws came a little to close for comfort before she snapped out of her daze and skillfully brought her machete down on his head. She couldn't think about that right now. At the moment, it was time to run. She briefly thought of the truck that the men had left just outside, but it was too dangerous. The mob would catch her before she even reached the door handle.

Making her choice, her boots landed on the grass before they buckled under her. Her strength was failing and she knew, but she managed to get back on her feet just as a Steve spotted her and started grumbling after her. It was like a domino effect, and soon enough she was running through the the forest with a horde of hungry undead streaming after her.


	3. The Speed Demon of King County

**Author's Note:**

** Hey guys, here's another chapter, and Rick is in it. :3 I felt empty typing without him. Lol Make sure you guys tell me if he's out of character at any point throughout the story, I'm going to try my best to portray him realistically.**

** So I was also looking at the supposed time-line of the outbreak, time on the farm, when Rick woke up from his coma, etc. on Wikipedia. And some of it just doesn't sit right with me. It basically says that Rick survived 46 days on his own without the life support machine or any sort of sustenance, which isn't possible. Another thing, I figured it would have taken more than 15 days for Carl to heal from his gunshot wound to the chest, let alone to be up and walking around without a problem. For that reason, I'm changing the time-line in my story to where it's been about a month and a half since the outbreak and they stay on the farm a few weeks longer. Leda stumbles onto the farm about 3 days after Carl is shot and before Daryl finds Sophia's doll. Nothing's happened yet besides that. Just to clarify. :)**

**Enjoi!**

She didn't think death would be so soft. Maybe she was in heaven, laying on a cloud. A very clean, crisp, white cloud.

_Even if that were the case, it'd be too cliché._

She smiled to herself. Unbearably comfortable, she tried to snuggle deeper within the fluffy depths when she was met with an unpleasant sensation.

_Ouch._

There was a nagging ache in her shoulder, but not nearly as bad as it had been before she died. Almost all at once, her thoughts were flooded with memories of what she had surmised as her final breath. The mob, the field, the people running toward her.

Her jade eyes flew open, head swiveling around in panic. She was in a bright, neatly kept bedroom, with large windows looking out onto the fields of a farm. Her body's first instinct executed itself and she sat up. Gritting her teeth and moaning softly, her hand flew to her injured shoulder. Somehow, there was a layer of gauze around it and medical tape holding it firmly in place, leading her to believe that it had already been cleaned and the bullet removed.

_What the fuck._ _These are some strange people._

She was at a loss with why they hadn't just shot her in the head like another Steve and cut their losses. She was of no use to them, of no importance. Not one of them. Just another threat.

_Maybe they're even sicker than I thought and they were waiting to kill me until I woke up. Great._

There was no other choice on her plate but to leave, just to sneak out without them knowing and give them an empty bed to discover. An unsteady hand ripped the layer of covers from her body and her legs swung over the side of the bed. As soon as she was on her feet, the blood rushed to her head and room tilted. Before she could control her body, or even think about controlling it, the wall rushed up to her right side and crushed her bandaged shoulder.

She screamed and crumpled to the floor. There was nothing but the pain, and her plan of escape was thrown to the back of her mind. The door flew open and she wasn't the least bit surprised when a man with a gun pointing a gun ran in, shouting at the top of his lungs for someone named Hershel.

Before she knew it, there was an elderly man helping her back into her bed, and against her better judgement she allowed him to. He didn't look too happy.

"You need to rest, you can't be out of bed this soon after you've been shot," he said, gently scolding her.

She only responded with a confused, furrowed brow at his grandfatherly nature. Pulling out a stool she hadn't noticed before that had been sitting by the bed side, he turned around and spoke to the Asian guy behind him.

"Glenn, go and get Rick. Tell him that she's awake."

"You gonna be okay?" the guy named Glenn replied, looking suspiciously between her and him. Apparently the old man didn't perceive her as a threat and he impatiently nodded. After Glenn left, he started to check her bandages to make sure that they were still in place. Maybe these survivors didn't want to fuck with her after all, she thought. Maybe they were just good people and that was it. Her mind just couldn't come up with another explanation for it.

"Where am I?" Leda wearily asked him, craning her head to take another look around the room.

"You're on my farm. My name is Hershel Greene. You'll be safe here until this heals," gesturing to her shoulder. "Then I'll expect you to be on your way." She blinked and nodded in acknowledgment. He handed her some pills and a glass of water. Antibiotics she guessed.

_Shit. They're wasting their medicine on me. And I already owe them my life._

She felt extremely awkward at receiving care from someone else and found herself briefly wondering why exactly they were giving her all this treatment when they new absolutely nothing about her. She was a stranger, an outsider and obviously viewed her as a potential threat. There wouldn't be a guard posted outside her door otherwise.

The old man had kind eyes, and she could tell he had a big heart, but he looked troubled. Or irritated. One of those. The funny thing was that she already trusted him, despite her complete knowledge of people nowadays.

"Thank you," she said, reluctantly downing the tablets.

He smiled weakly as he said "I'm not the only one you have to thank."

As he said those words, she could hear the hurried clunk of boots on hardwood floor coming down the hall. Two new men entered, along with the one named Glenn, who was still carrying his gun. One of the men's head was shaven and the second one...she couldn't be sure, but he looked so familiar. She couldn't quite put her finger on it and it aggravated her to no end.

_Those blue eyes...I swear I've seen them before..._

"Why the hell did you lead a bunch of walkers here!?" the other man demanded roughly in a thick southern accent.

"Shane, I said I'd handle this," the other one with the gun holster around his hip said firmly, giving him a look that clearly said "shut the fuck up."

She noticed Shane clench his jaw tightly and continue to glare at her with hostility. His eyes were dark and filled with contempt. She guess that the man with the blue eyes, who was clearly calling the shots, probably had leadership problems with him from time to time. Remembering Hershel's earlier words, she concluded that this man must be Rick.

_Rick. That name sounds like I've heard it before from somewhere too. Weird._

He turned his piercing eyes back to her. His hand was hovering over the pistol on his side, just in case she was dumb enough to try anything she guessed.

_Not that that's likely to happen since I can't even stand up properly._

She stared at them through wide, now aware eyes. The pain had started to fade away, thankfully, and now she could find out what the hell it was that they wanted with a clear mind.

"I apologize for my friend's behavior. Although he does have a point. We almost couldn't handle all of them." She didn't say anything. He paused and then sighed thoughtfully. "What's your name?"

Again, she didn't answer and just looked out the window defiantly. Finally, she spoke.

"Just give me my things and I'll be on my way."

"Now we both know that isn't an option," Hershel said gently, leaning back in his chair with his hands on his knees. "You've just been shot and need more time to recover."

"She ain't gonna get no time to recover if she don't start talkin'," Shane huffed.

Rick sighed and pressed his wrist across his forehead in exhaustion.

"Look, we just need to know where all those walkers came from so that we won't be caught off guard again," he said, trying to catching her stubborn gaze.

She turned her head back to him, the jade of her eyes piercing thousands of tiny daggers into his blue ones. They stared each other down and suddenly, just like that, it came to her. She realized where she knew him from. Before she could form a coherent sentence as to make her discovery known, Shane interrupted her thoughts.

"Man, this is a waste of time. We should've just left her in the field. Then we wouldn't be having this problem." He stomped out of the room without another word.

"Shane-" Rick called after him wearily and moved to follow him through the doorway when Leda spoke.

"Didn't you give me like eight speeding tickets?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

He halted and his eyes widened in recognition.

"Leda Cl-," he started before she abruptly cut him off, like she was prepared for it.

"We both know that it wouldn't be a good idea to finish that word," she warned him.

A broad grin spread over his features like sunshine breaking through a cloudy day and he strode back over to the bed that she was currently confined to. She noticed the hand that had still been hovering over his gun had relaxed and fallen to his side.

_Wow. Apparently my minor infamy earns trust. Ha._

"Well I don't believe it," he said shaking his head. "How did you get all the way over here to Georgia?"

"Same as everyone else," She snorted, "We heard there was shelter in Atlanta and when that didn't work out, I just kind of chose a road and followed it until I ran out of gas." She shrugged. "Been on foot ever since."

"Wait, so you two know each other?" Glenn interjected.

Rick nodded. "This woman right here is known as the Speed Demon of King County."

"And I carry that title with pride," she said with a smirk. It was all coming back to her now. Oh, she and Rick Grimes had become well acquainted during the ten minute intervals that defined her oh so spotless driving record. Back in King County, she had been addicted to speed. And not the drug. No, she had never cared much for drugs. Instead, she obsessed over sitting behind the wheel of a top speed car. And every time a cop caught her (and it was Rick most of the time), she just shrugged it off, paid it, and was right back on the road doing a hundred and twenty all over again. It was a wonder to Rick how she hadn't lost her license. He had always figured that she knew someone at the local DMV or something like that and had been able to pull of few strings.

Reviewing the memory in his head, a smile was playing at the corner of Rick's lips when Leda's stomach grumbled.

"Um, if I could trouble someone to get the can of beans that's in my pack, I would really appreciate it," she said sheepishly as she looked down at her feet.

"There's no need," Hershel answered. "We have food to spare."

"That's really not necessary..." she trailed off. After depending on herself for so long, she really wasn't happy about the hole of debt that was being dug for her. She much preferred doing things on her own, but at this point, she really didn't have a choice.

Hershel got up and left the room, ignoring her.

She sighed and looked back up to the two people remaining.

Rick grabbed the stool that Hershel had just vacated and repositioned it farther down the bed so that he could give her some space before sitting on it.

"So now will you explain to us why there was a whole mob of walkers chasing after you?" he asked with a serious expression.

"So that's what you call them, huh."

"Well what exactly do you call them."

"Steve," she replied with a straight face.

"Steve?" Rick repeated, raising an amused eyebrow.

"The first one I ever saw had Steve scrawled on his shirt. It seemed appropriate." Her eyes were sparkling, clearly pleased with herself. She noticed Glenn flash a toothy grin from his position beside the door. "I do like the term 'walker' though. It's simple."

Something caught Glenn's attention outside the room and when he asked to be excused, Rick nodded his head, leaving him and Leda alone in the room. He turned back to her.

"Stop avoiding the question," Rick commanded, donning his cop voice, but his smiling eyes betrayed him. Her gaze flicked back to his and she conceded.

"I was looking for supplies in some housing development near here when some assholes decided to get the bright idea to do the same. Good god, they started firing their guns off in the streets like it was the twenty-one gun salute. I swear, they pretty much rang the dinner bell. And of all the other houses they could have chosen, it was the one I was hiding in. There were three in total, and two of them came in the front door."

She put her hands up in defense before she went on.

"Now yes, I killed them okay. But only because there was no doubt in my mind that they would have done the same to me the first chance they got. It is and all it's ever been is a fucked up version of self-defense." She put her hands back down and started picking at her fingernails.

Rick's eyes fell to the floor but he said nothing.

"I've never enjoyed killing the living during the several weeks that I've been forced to survive but more often than not, it comes down to kill or be killed," she admitted, sighing before she continued. "So the first one I picked off easily but I made a mistake when moving on to the second. Somehow he saw me and fired off a round before I could get to him. By then, about every-" she paused and chucked as she used the new term. "-_walker _in the neighborhood was banging on the front door. Anyway, the third guy heard the shot and walked in the back door. He saw me before I could take cover. He's the bastard who shot me. Eventually, I did take the guy down. At that point I had two choices. Run or fight. And I was pretty positive that I couldn't take on that many walkers at one time. So...there you have it."

She purposefully decided to leave out the part about the guy reanimating without being bitten so she save herself the embarrassment of sounding completely nuts. She herself still didn't understand it and she doubted that he would either.

Rick rubbed the back of his neck thinking about what she said.

"And for the record, when I chose which direction to run, I had no idea that I was running towards a farm with people living on it." she said, finishing.

"I can't see how you would have known," he agreed. "So do you have a place that you're staying? Or are you constantly on the move?"

"Find me a tall tree and I'm set for the night," she replied with a smile.

He almost laughed at that. Almost. Instead he just cocked his head and stared at her curiously.

"I bet you were wondering what the hammock was for when you searched my bag."

"How do you know we searched your bag?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I would've done it if I were you. You're a smart cop. I don't imagine you'd take any chances." She paused and then asked, "So how did you get here Grimes? What's your story?"

He sat up stiffly.

"We thought Fort Benning might still be safe. We were on our there when we had to stop because of all the cars that had piled up on the interstate. There wasn't enough fuel left for us to turn around and go another way so our only choice was to try to find a path around. Which is what we were doing until our camper broke down. So we were just out there in the open, searching the nearby cars for supplies when one of our group spotted a herd coming our way, just wandering down the highway. I instructed everyone to hide under the cars. We waited it out, but somehow two walkers saw a one of us." He stood and went to stand by the window and gaze out onto the grassy field.

His head dropped with guilt to the floor. Leda silently wondered what happened and waited patiently for him to continue.

"It was a little girl named Sophia. Luckily, it was just the two walkers and no more, but she slipped down the side of the bank into the forest trying to get away and I ran after her. I managed to draw them towards me, but after I took care of them and went back for her, she was gone," he said sadly. "It's been four days since then. And to make matters worse, my son, Carl, was shot while we were out looking for her."

"How?" she inquired.

"It was an accident. Hershel had a ranch hand who was living here, and he was out hunting at the same time that we were out searching for Sophia. Carl-" he paused thoughtfully, clearly remembering something, but deciding not to share it. "He was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

He met Leda's eyes and she could tell that there was definitely something else that had happened. She wondered, of course, what he didn't want her to know, but she shrugged inwardly, deciding that it was his business.

"I'm assuming he's recovering?" she ventured and he nodded.

"Hershel agreed to let us stay here until Carl is better and to give us some time to look for Sophia."

"He told me that he expects me to leave as soon as I'm capable as well."

He sighed, shaking his head. "He doesn't understand how hard it is out there. Somehow, this farm has been protected from the chaos out there and him and his family haven't been forced to experience it yet. The only reason they know about it all is from seeing it on tv. He tells us we can only stay here until we've tied up our loose ends but..." he trailed off. "I've been trying to convince him to let us stay, but it hasn't been easy."

There was a long silence and Leda gazed over at Rick. He seemed far away has he scanned the fields of uncut grass beyond the walls of the house. She found it hard to believe that this farm was as safe as they said. Maybe it was just dumb luck that was their shield. But as much as she doubted the future stability of it, she wanted to throw all of her misgivings to the wind and accept the false sense of refuge. Living on the run, without even a semi-permanent sense of belonging, would eventually drive her insane and she knew it. And these people seemed like they were the first survivors she had come across who actually had their heads screwed on right. She even knew one of them, which won her over even more. The truth was clear: she did want a place in their group. The only problem was that in this world, outsiders rarely had the chance to be accepted, and even when the opportunity was given, they had to earn the right which much blood, sweat, and tears.

She couldn't think about that right now though. She was in these people's debt, and she wasn't the type of person that would just walk off without another word.

Finally, she spoke, putting her thoughts into words.

"Both you and Hershel saved my life and I have a debt to repay."

Rick tore himself away from his thoughts, walking away from the window and sitting back in the chair beside the bed as she continued.

"If you would allow it, I'd like to return the favor and give you some help finding this missing girl. I'm sure you need as many able people as you can get." She paused. "And I can give Hershel's family a hand with his farm, or at least try to go and find more medicine and supplies to replace the ones I've used."

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, considering her proposal.

"I need to know that you're not going to be a threat while you're here," he finally said, looking at her sternly. "I have a duty to do and that's to protect the people in my group from both walkers and others who would do us harm. I'm sure you can understand that."

She nodded. "I won't be a threat if I'm not threatened. It goes both ways, Grimes."

He smiled at her statement. "I can promise that you won't have anything to worry about while you're here."

Her eyes dropped to her feet again as she asked "Who was that who came in here with you earlier?"

"That was Shane, my partner," he replied after clearing his throat.

"He's a cop too? I don't recall ever seeing him before."

He grinned."I guess he was lucky enough not to have had the misfortune of catching you."

She chuckled.

"As you saw before, he's got a quick temper, but he's not dangerous."

Her bright smile faded and she swallowed.

"You know Grimes, I've seen a lot of things in the past few weeks, as I'm sure you have as well. But the difference is that you've been with others you know won't try to slit your throat while you're sleeping. Going solo was a choice for me because of the people out there, the ones who aren't infected. Every survivor I've come across, up until this point," she admitted, motioning towards him with her hand, "has always been a bad experience. There's...there's something behind their eyes that's completely gone. It's like the human brain just can't endure the pressure that's become of this new world. As many times as I've seen that insanity, it isn't hard for me to spot anymore, and...your partner, Shane...he's got that look."

Rick's expression turned hard and he searched her eyes, unable to accept the gravity of what she was implying. She stared back with concern evident on her features.

Rick's thoughts were interrupted as a woman Leda hadn't seen before stepped into the room.

"Carl's awake," she said, giving Leda a curious and slightly hostile glance.

Rick nodded as he rose to his feet.

"I'm sure Hershel will be along with your food soon," he said and left, obviously eager to check up on his recuperating son.

Rick followed his wife down the hallway towards the room Carl was in when she whirled around, eyeing him closely.

"So what have you decided to do with her?" Lori inquired.

"Well," he began, running a hand through his curly hair. "Do you remember me ever mentioning the woman I gave multiple speeding tickets to?"

She raised her eyebrows disbelievingly. "You mean the Speed Demon of King County?" obviously recalling Leda. "That's her?"

"It's hard to believe, I know, but yeah, that's her."

"You're not planning on letting her join our group, are you?" she pushed, resting her hand on her hip.

"I might, she could be an asset. She said she can fight and from what I've heard from her reputation back in Kentucky, she's quite skilled with cars. Pretty much anything having to do with mechanics in general."

Lori snorted. "I've heard a lot more about her reputation than that," she said shaking her head. "I think it's bad idea Rick. We still don't know what kind of person she is first-hand, I mean she led a bunch of walkers here! It's plain to see that she's dangerous."

"She didn't know that there was a farm here and she was in trouble," he told her calmly.

"Rick, you know I've supported your decisions in the past without question, but I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to do that if you keep endangering us like this," her voice low and ominous she spoke.

With that she turned her back to him and disappeared into Carl's room.

Rick's jaw set into a frustrated line and he took a deep breath to calm his nerves before following after his wife through the door.


	4. Camp Grimes

**Author's Note:**

** Omg so sorry I haven't posted anything for nearly two weeks, my job is stunting my creativity. . Alas, I shall try harder. Buuuuut only if I get more reviews. :3**

** Ooooh the chemistry between Leda and Rick is delicious. ^.^**

**Bluecrush611: Thanks so much for your support! And I'm glad that you agree with the time lapse failure. It's pretty irritating.**

**BethanyLeeRenner: Thank you also for liking my OC. :D It means so much to hear good things from my readers.**

The single day that Leda was sentenced to bed rest was nearly enough to drive her to insanity. After weeks on the road, it felt strange to be immobile. Pretty much every other thought was that of getting up and walking around. It was only a day though, she kept telling herself. Just the longest day of her life. After Hershel had brought her some food, she scarfed it down immediately and ever since then, she was incredibly bored. Hershel was kind enough to bring her a book or two, but she was never a strong reader, except with car manuals and the like. She was nearly an expert with those. Both of the books he brought her were fictional works and she'd had enough fiction in her life already.

Midway through the unbearably long day, a girl of about sixteen or seventeen who introduced herself as Beth, Hershel's daughter, came in to keep her company. She was really quite a sweet girl and they managed to talk about normal things, like boys and what they used to do before the apocalypse. Beth talked about high school and her boyfriend Jimmy, who was apparently staying with them, and Leda told her about her days fulfilling her reputation. When she had to leave to go help with dinner, Leda thanked her for staying with her. A little later, Beth brought a helping of food to her and afterwards, Leda just decided to go to bed, looking forward happily to the next day.

As the first bright rays of sunshine penetrated the room the next morning, Leda's eyes flew open and she was instantly awake. Taking it easy as she got up this time, she first slowly sat up. When she attempted to stand, she found it was a lot easier than the yesterday when she had basically flung herself out of bed. There was no dizziness, nothing but the soreness present in her muscles which had been unused to too long. She did a few laps around the room just to make sure that she wasn't being deceived by her excitement. Everything was in working order, except the only difference was that if she bent her arm or shoulder in the wrong way, she was rewarded with a sharp stab of pain.

_Better not use that arm a lot then, at least I have my good arm to use._

She was lucky that the bullet hadn't chosen to land in her right shoulder because her right arm was her machete hand.

She sighed contently, stretching what parts of her sore body she could without causing herself unneeded pain and crossed the room to the door. She stepped into the hallway and followed it, finding herself in the kitchen. Beth and a short-haired brunette, who Leda guessed was Beth's sister, were already up and making breakfast.

"Leda!" Beth exclaimed, rushing over to her. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better than yesterday, that's for sure," she replied.

Beth quickly introduced her to Maggie, who smiled at her pleasantly.

"So I don't mean to be rude or anything," Maggie began, "but you look like crap. You want a shower?" A shower seemed like heaven to Leda and that was just an offer she couldn't pass up. In fact, she couldn't even remember the last time she had one. Some river or stream was usually all the option she got.

Leda happily accepted and Maggie led her to another part of the house, where she gave her a towel and showed her where the bathroom was.

"Maggie, um do you think I could get my bag back? It has my clothes in it," Leda asked.

"Yeah, I'll be right back with it," Maggie said.

As Leda waited outside the bathroom door for her to return, her thoughts where of how nice these people were. Hershel and his family were very different from the world she had grown accustomed to. She supposed it was true that their farm had remained completely untouched from the world around it. Somehow. She was stilled kind of worried about meeting more of Rick's group and she hoped there weren't more people like Shane.

Maggie showed up in the hallway, interrupting her thoughts. Leda thanked her as she was handed her pack.

"Enjoy," she said with a knowing smile before returning to the kitchen.

Retreating into the bathroom, Leda turned the shower on and started removing her soiled clothes when she caught her reflection in the mirror, just as she had the day she'd stumbled onto the farm. Her hair was hanging in stringy and tangled tendrils around her oily and unwashed face. She twirled her fingers in the long red waves and thought maybe she'd just cut it off. Her roots where definitely grown out enough, and she'd be a lot cooler out in the hot Georgian sun without all that hair.

_There have to be some scissors somewhere in here._

After rifling through some of the neatly kept drawers and cabinets, she found what she was looking for. Smiling, she hoped she could manage to not end up cutting her ear off in the process.

"Morning guys, let's get going. Got a lot of ground to cover," Rick said as he laid the map Hershel gave him out on the hood of the old truck. The small party gathered around it, eager to start out their yet another day searching for the missing Sophia. Well at least Andrea seemed eager. Rick wasn't sure about everyone else. Shane seemed almost weary.

"Alright, everyone's getting new search grids today," he announced, motioning to the map. "If she made it as far as the farm house Daryl found, she might have gone further east than we've been so far."

"I'd like to help."

Rick turned around and saw Jimmy, one of Hershel's people stepped up.

"I know that area pretty well and stuff," he continued.

"Hershel's okay with this?" Rick questioned.

"Yeah, yeah, he said I should ask you."

Rick nodded. "Well alright then, thanks."

He was about to turn his attention back to the map when he noticed movement out the corner of his eye. His gaze locked onto a thin female figure that was taking long even strides toward the camp. As she came closer, at first he wasn't quite sure who it was a wondered if it was another one of Hershel's family that he hadn't met yet. Finally her face came into view.

He found himself at a complete loss. The strange red bottom part of her hair was completely gone and what was left were the still damp yet glossy jet black locks that stopped just above her bandaged shoulder and well as her bare one. Her bangs were piled atop her head. The now solid color of her mane brought out the vivid jade of her eyes even more, and the thin line of black makeup and thick lashes rimming them made him feel as if she could see right through him. Her clean skin radiated with a healthy glow and her full lips were curled into a gleaming and excited smile.

Her lean upper half was wrapped in what looked like a black cloth bustier with thick straps. It framed her in all the right places, and there was a ball and chain necklace nestled around her neck, something she had been wearing before. A pair of black, almost brown shorts accentuated her slender hips and stopped a slight bit higher than mid-thigh, along with a worn leather belt laced through the loop holes. Her almost knee-high boots made a soft swooshing sound on the grass and she joined the group.

"Morning," she said with friendly grin. "Seems I'm feeling well enough to help out."

Rick nodded to her and found himself staring a little longer than appropriate as Andrea took the liberties with introducing herself as well as everyone else to Leda.

"So you're the opossum," Daryl snickered.

Leda laughed. "Guess everyone knows about my love for trees now, huh."

"Hey, it's not a bad idea," Andrea defended. "Walkers can't climb, at least not that we know of."

"It's funny to watch when they try though," Leda smirked, crossing her arms.

Shane, who had been leaning on the passenger's door of the truck the whole time, finally grew bored.

"Well, are we gonna stand here shootin' the breeze er' what?"

Rick mentally shook himself into focus as Shane continued.

"Nothin' about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me. Anyone coulda' been holed up in that farmhouse."

"Anybody includes her, right?" Andrea spoke up.

"Whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger than yay-high," Daryl pointed out, motioning out with his hand to emphasize.

"It's a good lead," Andrea agreed.

Shane just ignored them and looked off into the distance.

Rick nodded as he said "Maybe we'll pick up her trail again."

"No maybe about it." Dale brought a big sack of ammo and firearms up the trucks and laid it beside the map as Daryl spoke. "I'm gonna borrow a horse, head up to this ridge right here, take a bird's-eye view of the whole grid." He explained, pointing on the map with his finger. "If she's up there, I'll spot her."

"Good idea," T-Dog said before he added cheekily, "Maybe you'll see your Chupacabra up there too."

"Chupacabra?" Rick repeated incredulously.

"You never heard of this?" Dale asked. "Our first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole thing reminds him of a time when he went squirrel hunting and he saw a Chupacabra."

Jimmy laughed and Daryl narrowed his eyes.

"What er' you braying at, jackass?"

"So you believe in a blood sucking dog?"

"You believe in dead people walkin' around?" Daryl countered.

Jimmy ignored him and reached for one of the rifles that was laying on the truck.

"Hey hey," Rick said, grabbing it. "Ever fire one before?" He asked cautiously.

"Well, if I'm going out, I want one."

"Yeah, and people in hell want slurpees," Daryl commented before throwing his crossbow over his shoulder and walking off.

"Why don't you come train tomorrow?" Shane offered to Jimmy. "If you're serious, I'm a certified instructor."

"For now he can come with us," Andrea conceded.

"He's yours to babysit then," he said with a cocked eyebrow.

"Alright," Rick said as he started to organize groups, "Andrea, T-dog, you'll go up to this part of the grid, take some rags and nail them to some trees so we make sure that we won't overlap on our sections. Shane, are you okay with going alone?"

"Why?" He asked strolling up to the hood of truck.

"I'm taking Leda with me," he answered as he motioned to her.

Shane glanced at her condescendingly, then circled around the truck past Leda and the others. "Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked in a low voice.

"Hold on," Rick answered. He quickly finished up with Andrea and T-Dog, who promptly took their weapons and left with Jimmy in tow, then he followed Shane out to the driveway with a weary expression.

"You're not giving her a weapon are you?"

"Well yeah," he answered. "I thought I'd give her the machete back."

"You really think that's such a good idea? I mean we still don't know for sure if she has a group waiting on the edge of the woods, just waiting to come out at us the moment she give the signal. I don't think it's a good idea to let her be on this farm to even to let her come with us, let alone being given a weapon," he hissed.

"You're forgetting who this is Shane. Look, I know you never met her, but you've heard of her, and I know you can agree with me that she's no killer. And she wants to help. She told me that she feels bad for bringing those walkers onto the farm and wants to return the favor."

Shane rubbed his shaven head, clearly irritated by the situation.

"She's my responsibility Shane, and I know that. Why do you think I'm taking her with me and not sending her off with anyone else? I still don't trust her completely, and if I spend some time with her I'll be able to tell for sure if she's a threat or not." He paused. "Plus I've got the gun," he said gently patting the revolver on his side.

Shane sighed. "Fine, man. But if anyone gets hurt it's on your head."

Rick nodded and returned to the truck where Leda was patiently waiting. Shane followed him over, grabbed a rifle and ammo, then left without a word.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, concerned that they weren't going to let her go with them.

"Yeah, Shane and I just tend to have disagreements from time to time," he answered reassuring her. "I'll be right back okay?"

She nodded and Rick head over to the RV, disappeared inside it, and after a second, stepped out with something wrapped in a piece of cloth.

"Now Leda, I need to know that you're not planning on doing anything stupid," he informed her, the look on his face dead serious. "That's the condition on getting your machete back."

She smiled. "You have my word, officer." He held it out to her and she gratefully took it, unwrapping it from the cloth. "You know, you seem like a pretty good leader Grimes. I'm surprised you weren't Sheriff back in Kentucky."

He almost blushed at receiving a compliment from such a beautiful woman. Brushing it off, he shrugged.

"Never really wanted to be," he admitted, his eyes scanning the grassy fields in thought. "Everyone seems to look to me for answers, even though half the time I'm just going on instinct." He snorted. "I guess you could say that I never really signed up for it but I'm doing it anyway."

Leda caught Rick's gaze and the frown on his face was clear. God, the man looked tired. And it looked like there was a lot pain in his blue eyes. Leda found herself wishing that she could do something about it, a thought which surprised her, considering she barely knew anything about besides the fact that he used to be a good kind cop.

Her eyes fell to the map as she said "should we be going?"

After a second, he nodded and showed her which section of the grid they had.

Right as they were heading to leave, a thought suddenly occurred to Leda.

"Hey, um Grimes? Look, ah, I don't expect you to grant me this one thing but um, you remember that handgun I had with me?"

He immediately sighed, realizing what she was about to ask.

"Look Leda, I already-"

"Just listen, okay?" She said cutting him off. "I'd like it back but with just one bullet in it."

His brow scrunched up.

"That's kind of the main reason I have it, if you know what I mean," she said trying to convince him. Though it was pretty morbid, she always had a need for it. During the first week after she was learning to cope with the dead, it was her first weapon, and she indeed did eventually run out of ammo. It scared her to dead and from that time on she told herself that there would always be a bullet left for a painless dead if need be. Seemed like it was a better way to go than being torn apart piece by piece or waiting to turn from a bite.

She could tell he was still trying to decide whether or not he would give her that option or if it was to much of a risk.

"I'll even keep the bullet in my vest pocket, if that makes you feel better," she tried again.

"I'll meet you over there," he finally said, pointing over at the end of the field towards where they were going.

She sighed and nodded. Taking her machete in her hand, she did as instructed and strolled through waves of knee-high grass towards the tree line. Shortly, she spotted Rick coming towards her, the strap of his rifle slung over his shoulder.

"I'll give it to you as soon as we get deeper in the woods," he said as he approached.

"I appreciate it, Grimes," she thanked him, smiling.

Leda wandered into her thoughts as they started walking in silence. She couldn't help thinking about that pain she'd seen in the ex-officer. Then she remembered the same pain she just been able to catch a glimpse of when he'd told her about how he'd lost Sophia. Then of course there was the pain from being forced to survive with the presence of the hungry dead everywhere. It seemed like he'd been lucky though. He had his family, and one of his friends. Most people had to live with the fact that everyone they knew was dead. Yet, it seemed like he carried more weight on his shoulders than all the people at the camp combined.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she noticed Rick had stopped and started to pull her gun out from under his shirt. He took the one bullet out of his pocket and handed them to her.

"I thought it would be better if I didn't let the rest of group know about this," he said.

"I understand, people would rather not think or know about shit like that."

She put the gun in her waistband and the bullet in her front pocket, just as she promised.

He started trudging through the forest again, and Leda fell into step beside him. Eventually, bored, it was her who took a shot at starting a hopefully lasting conversation.

"So last I heard you'd been shot and were in a coma," she started.

"And I woke up in a hospital full of dead people to find myself in the middle of an apocalypse."

"That's a rough start, I gotta say," she agreed. "Care to tell the rest of the story?"

He half smiled and explained to her how he met Morgan and his son Duane, and how he had decided to go to Atlanta in hopes of finding his family.

"Finally I ran out of gas and had to go on foot," he said. "Just when I thought I'd have to walk the whole way to Atlanta, I saw this horse pasture. It's owners had-" he paused, clearly not enjoying the image permanently engraved into his memory. "-opted out, so I found no harm in riding it into Atlanta."

"Wait," she interrupted, laughing. "You rode into Atlanta on horseback?"

He nodded, kind of chuckling himself. "Now that I think about it, it did seem kind of silly."

"I'll say." Her eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"So my faithful steed and I were walking through the streets of the city, until we turned a corner and came face to face with hundreds of walkers. I fired off a few rounds, which as I learned later, wasn't a very smart idea. The horse got spooked, threw me off, along with the bag of ammo, and I thought I was a goner. Luckily there was a tank near where I landed and it was my only option."

"Damn Grimes, how the hell are you still breathing?"

Rick then went on to explain how Glenn helped him and the whole series of events through Atlanta, purposefully leaving out the part about Daryl's brother. He still felt horrible about that, and he just wanted to avoid that topic altogether. Leda seemed to be very intrigued when told her about how he and Glenn had smeared walker guts all over themselves. Continuing, he described the pseudo-gang and the attack on the camp, leading on to the people they lost and where they intended to go when they decided to leave.

"We thought that the CDC was the best bet, and if not there, we'd move on to the fort."

"What did you find at the CDC?" She asked, interested that maybe Rick had been told something about how to virus was started or what exactly it did. That walker that rose without being bitten endlessly continued to unnerve her.

He started to answer, but immediately stopped when he noticed movement in the distance. He put a hand out to alert her, and then pointed. There were two walkers stumbling through the trees towards their unknown destination. Swinging the rifle off of his shoulder, he lifted it to his eye to aim.

"Put that thing down," she commanded without another thought. Surprised, he lowered it and cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Good Lord, there's only two. Spare yourself the noise and ammo and let me take care of it," she explained, rolling her eyes.

"Leda-" he started to object, but she just waved him off, trudging past the trees, machete out. Her good arm swung through the air, landing in a rotten skull. She forcefully pulled the blade from its target, and as the brain-dead walker fell to the ground, the second one lunged at her. Skillfully, she ducked behind a tree, and using a branch as leverage, she put her boot on the walker's back and kicked it down to the moist earth, lunged on it, and once again sheathed her machete with blood and brain matter.

As she was cleaning the metal off on a piece of cloth she tore from the walker's shirt, Rick made his way over to her. Looking up at him, she said, "didn't I tell ya?"

"I figured that you could handle yourself well but I never thought you'd be a show-off," he joked.

She shrugged, a smile playing on her lips.

"You're not going to make pride a crime are you, Grimes?"

He snorted.

"You can call me Rick, you know." As an afterthought, he finished," I'm not a cop anymore and it's not like I can call you Clutterbuck."

She froze. When he turned around, a completely innocent expression on his face, he was rewarded with a stony glare. If looks could kill, he was pretty certain that he'd be pushing up daisies at that moment.

"I may have only one bullet, but I'm thinking that it just might be worth using on you," she playfully hissed.

"Uh-oh, looks like we might have a threat on our hands after all," he countered, playing along.

Her glare turned into a smirk and her eyes narrowed.

"Come on," he said laughing softly as they resumed their gait. "Your surname sounds very-"

"English, yeah," she finished for him. "My dad was from England, my mom from here. They died in a car accident when I was too young to remember their faces. My only living relative was my mom's brother, who also lived back in Kentucky. And voila, I became a southern girl."

"That explains a lot," Rick replied.

Eventually, they finished up searching their part of the grid and decided it was time to head back to the farm, eager to see if anyone had discovered anything leading to Sophia's whereabouts. Of course, there could always be bad news too, and that's what Rick always appeared to be worried about. Leda didn't say it but she had as much faith in finding the missing girl as Shane seemed to have. It was hard enough for an adult to survive in the world now, let alone a kid. But she saw the look in Rick's eye as they hiked through the woods, and she wished that Sophia was still alive, just so that it would get rid of his guilt and pain.

**A/N: Okay guys, points to anyone who noticed the easter egg in this chapter. If you don't know what that is, look it up. :3**


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